


crosses on my body, and him, putting his mouth on every one

by HapticLacuna



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Abortion, Angst, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Eggsy really needs a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Food Issues, Forced Abortion, Happy Ending, Harry Hart Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Underage Rape/Non-con, Unsafe Sex, that only occurs between Eggsy and Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapticLacuna/pseuds/HapticLacuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your body, your choice.</p><p>Bullshit.</p><p>Eggsy's never had choices.</p><p> </p><p>(Updates every Friday and expected to finish January 1st - sorry for the delay!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. crosses on my body

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for major douchebag!Dean. 
> 
> Non-con only occurs between Eggsy and Dean.
> 
> Title is taken (altered slightly) from Richard Siken's poem 'Snow and Dirty Rain' in his book Crush.

Eggsy is too young, the first time. 

He thinks he’s too young for Dean to be fucking him in the first place.  But if he was too young, shouldn’t his body have rejected it? 

It doesn’t; instead, at the tender age of 14, he finds himself struggling to buckle his jeans.

He makes the mistake of telling Dean, confused and panicked at the repercussions of the slight bump at his waistline.

He also makes the mistake of telling his step-father he hasn’t had sex with anyone but him. 

Dean doesn’t even wait – tells Michelle he’s taking Eggsy out for ice cream (Eggsy’s mum looks happy and it makes Eggsy feel sick) and pushes him into the car.  Drives, chain-smoking and furious, to the free clinic.  Leads Eggsy inside, tells him that he’s going to tell the doctor he wants an abortion. 

Eggsy takes one look at the expression on Dean’s face, nods.  Goes into the room, lets the doctor give him an ultrasound.  Tells her, shaking, that he wants an abortion.

His guts cramp that night, and he throws up twice.  He cries silently, listening to the sounds of Dean and his friends getting high, only a thin wooden door between them.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

The second time, Eggsy goes to the store and buys himself his first pregnancy test at 16. 

Takes it in a public loo.  Doesn’t want any evidence kicking around for his mum to find. 

It takes him ten minutes to pick himself up off the floor, dust himself off, and throw the stick with the little pink plus sign in the bin.

He doesn’t tell Dean.  He doesn’t tell anyone.  Not even Ryan and Jamal, his new best mates.  They know Dean beats his mum, beats him.  They know he’s a dealer, know he’s scum. 

They don’t know Dean’s been sneaking into his room and fucking him since he was thirteen. 

He tells himself lots of people become parents at sixteen – at least around the estate, they do. 

It ain’t so bad, he tells himself, as the door creaks at three am, as his mattress squeaks.  He’ll get a job, they’ll make do.

It’ll be okay, he tells himself, as he sits down to the first family dinner in years. 

And then his mum holds up a familiar white stick.  And that little pink plus sign.  She smiles, Dean leans over to kiss her on the cheek and pat at her stomach.  His lips curl as he turns to smirk at Eggsy.

Eggsy starts to hate the colour pink.

He can’t help it.  The next time Dean comes into his room to get his rocks off, he blows up.  Asks him who he thinks he is, dicking the both of them without rubbers.

Dean may be thick, but he ain’t _that_ dense.  Takes one look at Eggsy’s stomach, and that’s it.

Eggsy goes to the clinic by himself this time, a purpling bruise around his left eye, yellowing ones at his hips.  Cries through it all – the ultrasound, the discussion of his ‘options’ with the doctor.

He ain’t got no fucking options.  They scrape him out and he goes back to the estate, feeling emptier than he ever has.

He fights the next time Dean comes into his room.  He fights and he wins. 

Dean fucks him with condoms from then on. 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Eggsy’s with his mum when she gives birth to Daisy.  Dean’s off at some pub – the doting father shtick didn’t last long, big surprise. 

The nurses clean her up after they cut the cord, hand her to Eggsy as his mum weeps.  Eggsy looks at her, this perfect little pink thing howling at the top of her lungs.  Better than any of them, the best of all them.  Innocent.  

It’s horrible of him, but all he can think of his two babies.  Perfect.  Innocent.  Gone.  Lost. 

He hands her to his mum quickly, walks out the door.  Bums a smoke off someone outside, fights back against the pain threatening to well up in his eyes.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He comes back from the Marines a man.  Dean’ll hold a knife to his throat, but he doesn’t come into his room again. Eggsy isn’t sure if it’s because Dean knows he’ll fight back now, or if it’s because Eggsy’s shoulders are just too broad for Dean now.

If it’s because Dean only wanted Eggsy, the boy.  

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Then Kingsman happens, then V-Day.  Then Harry comes back from the dead, stubborn bugger, short one eye. 

Eggsy punches him in the face, then kisses him, promises to never hit him again.  They’re living together a week later.  And for once, everything falls into place. 

But that little pink plus sign turns up two years later. 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He goes to Roxy.  Knocks on the door to her flat frantically, the positive test in the Tesco’s bag slung over his shoulder.  She opens the door and he rushes in, pausing full stop at the sight of Merlin standing in her living room, shirtless and wearing pajama pants. 

He bursts into tears at the sight.  Fucking hormones. 

“I’ll put the kettle on,” is all the tech wizard says, shuffling off to the kitchen as Roxy rushes to Eggsy’s side, coaxes him to the couch, rubs at his back until he’s only sniffling. 

He digs the test out of his bag, shows it to her.  Merlin brings in three mugs, made to each of their liking. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Roxy assures gently, still running her hand over his back soothingly as Eggsy thanks Merlin quietly and sips at his tea. 

Merlin, while not unkind, is straightforward.  “Do you want to keep it, lad?”

Eggsy knows Merlin’s seen Eggsy’s records.  All of them, medical included.  He knows Eggsy’s had two abortions.

He doesn’t know that Eggsy’s never had options, before.

“Yes,” he murmurs, nodding.  “Yes.”

“Does Harry know?” Merlin asks, unnecessarily.  They all know Harry doesn’t know.

Eggsy still shakes his head. 

Roxy tuts, wraps an arm around his shoulders, hugs him to her.  “It’ll be okay,” she promises, again. 

Eggsy drinks his tea, and with a half-hearted smile, tells Merlin to put on a shirt and he’ll stop crying.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He’s twenty-two now, he reminds himself on the walk home.  He’s got a well-paying job, he’s got benefits.  He has a home.  His own home, a safe home. 

He isn’t pregnant by his step-father. 

_Harry isn’t Dean._

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He tells Harry when he gets home.  The man doesn’t even have a chance to hang up his brolly. 

“I’m pregnant,” he says, watching as Harry’s familiar, sure movements stutter to a halt as the words register. 

The other man looks up after a moment, hanging his coat on the hook.  “I see,” he murmurs, face calm, unbearably so given the tense lines of his body.  “What would you like to do?”

Eggsy panics.  “I’m not having an abortion and you can’t make me,” he spits, defensive.

Shock crosses Harry’s face.  “I would never _make_ you,” he implores, stepping forwards and wrapping arms around Eggsy.  They both ignore his small flinch.  “Darling, it is utterly your choice.”

Eggsy curls fists into the back of Harry’s suit jacket.  “I want to keep it,” he mutters into the space between them, voice tight. 

Harry steps back just a bit, taps at Eggsy’s chin lightly.  Smiles down at him, big brown eyes full of warmth.  “Then that is what we’ll do,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

Later, in bed, with Eggsy resting his head on Harry’s chest, he’ll tell him.  The things he’s never said.  Dean sneaking into his room.  The clinic.  Harry will grow tense with rage before growing tender, as he always does.  Wipes tears from Eggsy’s eyes, presses kisses to his cheeks, whispers apologies to the love of his life, who he failed so horribly.

Eggsy presses their hands together over where their child is growing.  Cries more, not in a loo or a clinic, but in the arms of his soulmate, and whispers words of hope. 


	2. An apple a day is really not sufficient, Eggsy.

“ _Therapy_ ,” Eggsy repeats incredulously, raising an eyebrow at the two men sitting in front of him. 

“Aye, therapy,” Merlin responds patiently, though his face betrays the weight of his guilt.  Same can be said of the sorry sod to his left.  _Honestly_.

“You can stop looking like I’ve killed your puppies now, thanks,” Eggsy mutters sullenly, hands gravitating to rest over his belly.  Both bespeckled pairs of eyes track the movement, and Eggsy curses internally. 

“Therapy will be good for you,” Harry interjects.  Eggsy isn’t sure if he’s saying that as his partner or as his boss. 

Not that it matters.  “I don’t need therapy,” Eggsy retorts stubbornly, tone lacking all the patience displayed by the others, jutting out his chin and staring the both of them down.  He crosses his arms across his chest, daring them to disagree, to start this argument.

Harry does, the bastard.  “You cried all weekend and only ate an apple on Sunday,” he states matter-of-factly, and Eggsy can see Merlin’s features grow tighter with the new knowledge.  God dammit.  If Harry doesn’t shut his mouth around Merlin, Eggsy’s sure the Scot will up and explode one day.

“I was _hormonal_ ,” Eggsy growls back, hands reverting back to their position across his stomach.

“You were grieving,” Harry responds simply, and Eggsy’s nails bite into his palms as he opens his mouth.  If Harry wants a fight, he’ll get a fight.

“Regardless,” Merlin cuts in, casting both of them chiding looks.  Eggsy shuts his mouth, sufficiently chided.  “Of what happened this weekend.  Eggsy, as your supervisors, we must insist you attend therapy.  You suffered-“

Eggsy huffs warningly. 

“You suffered…a great deal of trauma,” he continues, words chosen carefully, folding his hands on the table.  “Something that should we discover had happened to an agent, _any_ agent, would result in them attending therapy.  And as with anything, we have an incredible team of licenced professionals at your disposal.  In fact, I think Doctor O’Reilly would be the perfect fit for you, and I believe she has an opening today at three.”

Eggsy huffs again, staring down at his lap.  Out of the corner of his eye he can see Harry stand, watches him walk to kneel besides Eggsy’s chair, one of his warm, gun-calloused hands curling around Eggsy’s.  Eggsy looks over at him begrudgingly. 

“Please darling,” Harry murmurs softly, blinking up at Eggsy with his one good eye.  As always, Eggsy feels the impulse to slip his hand under the straps securing the patch to his face, to cradle where Valentine’s bullet tore through skin.  He resists, and his hands stay against his stomach.  “A few sessions, at the very least.  You didn’t eat yesterday, Eggsy.  You cannot _not eat_ right now.   If not for you, or for me.  Go for our child.”

Eggsy’s throat chokes tight with guilt.  “That’s not fair,” Eggsy mutters.  Barely a few days in and he’s already fucking this up. 

“Perhaps it’s not fair, but it’s what I’m asking,” Harry responds promptly, leaning in to press a kiss to Eggsy’s palms.  “Please?”

Dammit.  “Fine,” the younger agent answers through clenched teeth, turning to Merlin.  “Set it up.  Anything else before I go get a stick shoved up my arse?”

Harry gets up from the floor, rolling his eyes as he kisses Eggsy’s temple, attempting to soften the blow.  Eggsy knows his intentions, and it still works.  He leans into the familiar touch.  “It’s an ultrasound, darling.”

“It’s a stick up my arse, and not the good kind,” Eggsy murmurs, pointedly watching Harry as the man returns to Arthur’s position at the head of the table.

Merlin clears his throat, sliding his clipboard and a stylus across the table.  “Before your ultrasound, you need to sign this.  It’s merely a document outlining your leave; you are to be taken off active duty, until at minimum three months after you give birth, at which point you will submit to a physical examination and evaluation before returning to active duty.”

Eggsy scrawls his signature where Merlin points, not bothering to a read a word of the thing.  “That it?”

“Not quite,” Merlin stands and turns to Harry, pulling him back out of his chair to wrap his arms around him.  Eggsy looks on fondly, catching only bits of Merlin’s rough brogue as he murmurs congratulations to his colleague.  Eggsy happily stands up as they separate to receive his own hug, grinning into his shoulder as he receives his own rough ‘congratulations’.  If Eggsy didn’t know better, he’d comment on the emotion in his voice.

“Thanks, bruv,” Eggsy murmurs instead, patting him on the back as they step apart.  “Means a lot,” he adds, throat growing a bit tight himself. 

Merlin mercifully only nods, collecting his clipboard and tucking it under his arm.  “I’ll set things up with Doctor O’Reilly,” Merlin informs the both of them as he walks towards the door.  “But for now, Eggsy, I think it’s time you got that stick shoved up your arse.”

Harry chuckles, resting a hand on Eggsy’s lower back.  Eggsy scowls.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

The conversation in the conference room isn’t half as unpleasant as the walk to Medical.  Eggsy’s stretched taut with tension, and his hands are slick with sweat.  Despite this, Harry holds onto one firmly, their fingers intertwined. 

Eggsy can’t deny he takes comfort in the gesture.

He swallows back revulsion as they go through the familiar movements.  It isn’t the clinic, and the table he’s about to climb onto is much nicer than the one he’s used to, but it still feels eerily similar.  Like Déja Vu, only not from a past life, but memories thoroughly repressed.  Or so he thought. 

He shimmies out of his trousers and pants, gets up on the examination table.  Scoots his arse down to the edge, feet in the stirrups, lets Harry throw the paper sheet over him.  Then the panic sets in.

“We’re just here to make sure you’re healthy,” Harry murmurs, leaning over him and stroking his hair.  Eggsy wraps a hand around his other wrist, clings to him, to his reassurance.  “That’s all, darling.  The doctor knows that.  They’re just going to make sure you’re healthy, that the baby’s healthy, recommend a prenatal vitamin and something for the nausea, and that’s it.”

Eggsy doesn’t stop holding onto Harry as the doctor comes in. He only half hears what she’s saying through the blood pounding in his ears, but Harry looks pleased enough with it, and Eggsy trusts Harry.  He doesn’t doubt that Merlin debriefed her on the situation, because she shows him the instrument before setting to work inserting it.

“I much prefer your stick,” Eggsy jokes, his face pale as he looks up at Harry.  Harry only rolls his eyes and continues to run soothing fingers through his hair, but he gets a snort out of the doctor. 

“Here we go, agents,” she says, flicking a few switches, swiveling a screen towards them, filled with a grainy image.  Eggsy feels his own heartbeat stop as another fills the room, fast, deafening.  “That’s your baby.”

Eggsy bawls.  Blames it on the hormones. 

Harry cries, much more elegantly. 

Eggsy, red-faced and snotty, can’t help but snog Harry as he helps Eggsy back into his trousers, pictures of their child tucked carefully away in his jacket pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for me not promising anything more...I'm already writing for chapter four. Chapters will get progressively longer, and I will try to update every Friday.
> 
> I love reading your comments, thank you to everyone who leaves one!
> 
> Chapter three is written and will be posted on October 16th.


	3. Murphy's Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth.

Therapy isn’t that bad, at first.  Doctor O’Reilly – “call me Katherine” – seems like the decent sort, and for a while they just discuss the ultrasound. She offers her congratulations when Eggsy shows her the pictures a bit shyly, tells her he’s seven weeks.

His mistake is mentioning his slightly elevated blood pressure.  The doctor said that they’d monitor it carefully, but given Eggsy’s situation, was of no concern for the moment.

Katherine doesn’t think the same.

“It wasn’t planned or nothing,” he mutters, pulling one of the many pillows in the room into his lap, picking at the gold and red fabric.  “Course it was stressful, finding out.”

“I think we both know this is more than just the stress of an unplanned pregnancy,” she comments.  No-nonsense, which Eggsy would appreciate in any other situation than his current one.  He scowls down at the pillow, silent. 

“If you’re not ready to discuss that, we could talk about your eating habits.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes.  Fucking Merlin grassed.  “There’s nothing wrong with my ‘eating habits’,” he argues.  “You lot are acting like I’m starving myself.  It was _one day_.”

“Fair enough,” Katherine responds, fingers typing at a clipboard similar to the one Merlin’s always toting around.  Eggsy cranes his neck to try and read what’s on the screen, and merely gets an unimpressed eyebrow for his effort.  “But should it continue?”

“This is stupid,” Eggsy mutters.  Her eyebrow arches higher and he throws down his hands.  “It won’t!”

“People often latch onto food in their grief,” Katherine offers.

Eggsy groans inwardly.  “I ain’t grieving,” he argues sourly.  So apparently Harry had talked to her as well.  Wanker.

 “I would argue that you are.   And that’s understandable, given your trauma.  You have much to grieve; your youth, your losses.  You’ve had to undergo quite a lot, Galahad, and that’s not even touching on your time at Kingsman.”

Eggsy picks at the pillow.  After a moment, she seems to accept his silence, and she broaches the topic of preparation. Eggsy admits that he hasn’t thought much about it, and Katherine suggests literature to help ease his anxiety. 

Eggsy scoffs, but at the end of their session, takes the list of book titles with him.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

“Jesus Christ, Eggsy!”

Eggsy sheepishly looks up, relieved when only exasperation shows on Roxy’s face. 

“There was a sale?” he offers tentatively, a blatant lie.

He may have gone a bit overboard at the shop.  He had taken Dr O’Reilly’s suggestion to heart, and he’s starting to regret it.

He holds up the book that’s currently in his hand, detailing pregnancy and food.  It hasn’t been quite the mouth-watering experience he had hoped for.  “This one says I shouldn’t eat feta cheese.  Harry and I had Greek last week!  And,” he picks up another, paling.  “On the back of this one it says I can’t clean cat litter, ‘cause there’s parasites in it that will mess up the baby.”

Roxy picks her way through the piles of books to sit on the sofa.  “Eggsy, love, you don’t even own a cat.”

“There’s so many things I can fuck up,” Eggsy continues, crawling up onto the sofa next to her.  “I’m going to fuck it up.”

Roxy sighs, wrapping an arm around him.  “No, you won’t,” she murmurs, squeezing his shoulder gently.  “All you need to do is relax a little.  Go make yourself a cuppa-“

“Can’t,” Eggsy interrupts.  He was not happy about that one.  “Caffeine.”

“Herbal tea, then,” Roxy corrects patiently, nudging him.  “You must have some.  And I’ll tidy this up so Harry doesn’t throw a fit when he gets home.  And then we’ll go shopping.  Merlin’s taking me to this new restaurant and he’s going to surprise me with a key to his place, so I want to look good.”

Eggsy allows himself to be nudged towards the kitchen.  Puts the kettle on and digs through the cabinets to find an ancient tin of green tea.  Sips at it, tries to ignore the weight of what’s he doing settling on his shoulders, confirmed by the forty some odd books adorning the rug

So much for easing his anxiety with preparation. 

He does relax walking down the streets of London arm in arm with his best mate.  He follows Roxy, nodding and shaking his head when appropriate as she scours the shops.  She eventually settles on a royal blue high-necked dress with matching pumps. 

They’re heading back to the house for dinner when they pass the boutique, and Roxy gets a very familiar glint in her eye that spells danger. 

“Rox, no,” Eggsy mutters, tries to tug her along the safety of the sidewalk.  Unfortunately Roxy is just as stubborn as him and pulls him through the door.

“I’m not even in the second trimester yet!” he hisses under his breath.  Her heels on the wooden floor of the children’s boutique announces their presence to the shop assistant.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asks, polite behind the counter.  She probably assumes Eggsy and Roxy are a couple, and that’s just fine with Eggsy, who elbows Roxy in the side when she opens her mouth to answer.

“Just looking, thanks,” he dismisses with a charming smile and a wink, trailing after Roxy who has moved on to looking at the racks of clothing.

She pulls out a romper, presenting it to Eggsy.

He looks away and she sighs.

“Come on.  This is the fun part, getting ready!  Before you’re scrubbing vomit out of your clothing and running on half an hour of sleep,” she chides gently, bumping Eggsy with her hip before putting the romper back, continuing down the rack. 

Eggsy drags his feet as he follows.  “I’ve got, like, eight months to go,” he mutters, looking down at where he isn’t even showing.  He had been showing with the first one.  “Doctor said I was due in March.  That’s ages away.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Roxy retorts, this time pulling out a white onesie with the words ‘worth the wait’ on the front.

Eggsy’s fists clench and he looks away.  He hears Roxy quickly tucking it back into place and then to the sound of her heels clicking away, further into the store.  Eggsy resists for all of five seconds before rolling his eyes and following.

The back of the store is taken up by toys, small furniture, and a small collection of blankets.  While Roxy fawns over a high-chair, Eggsy finds himself drawn to the blankets. 

They’re arranged by colour, and Eggsy runs his fingers over the pink one, thinking of Daisy.  The fabric is incredibly soft, and he drags his knuckles against the blue one.  After a moment’s hesitation he reaches up to grab the yellow one, pulling it off the shelf and cradling it in his arms. 

“Soft, aren’t they?” the shop assistant asks behind him, and to his embarrassment, he jumps.  So much for being a secret agent. 

“Yeah,” he answers, curling his fingers into the fabric. 

There’s an awkward moment of silence.  “Are you two expecting?” she asks, chipper.

At least Eggsy’s had a fair amount of experience dealing with that.  “Oh, no,” Eggsy murmurs, fingers still curled into the soft fabric, letting the tiny fibers curl against his skin.  “No, we’re not together.”  He looks up at her.  “I am, though.  Expecting.”

She beams.  “Congratulations.”

Eggsy knows she must say it multiple times a day, every day she works in this shop, but it still makes him smile.  “Thanks,” he murmurs, cheeks pinking. 

“We’ll take the blanket,” Roxy interrupts, tugging it out of Eggsy’s hands and putting it into the shop assistant’s, who nods and heads to the counter before Eggsy can even protest. 

He still does, stubbornly, as Roxy pulls out her credit card and puts it on the counter.  “It’s too soon,” he hisses, watching the blanket disappear into multiple layers of tissue. 

“Tell that to the one thousand books in your house,” Roxy mutters back, flashing a smile at the poor girl who looks utterly confused. 

“That’s different.”

“Yes, it is.  Because all that did was make you worry.  That blanket didn’t make you worry.  That blanket made you excited.  And frankly, Eggsy, I’m sick of seeing you not excited about that baby.”

Eggsy pauses, taken aback.  “I am excited,” he argues, hurt bleeding through his tone. 

Roxy softens, reaching out to pat his hand before scrawling her signature on the receipt the assistant hands her.  “I know you are.  Deep down.  Buried under all that…Buried under everything.”  She takes the bag, presses it into Eggsy’s hands with a small frown.  “Let me help.  Even if all I can do is buy you a blanket.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Dinner is an easy affair.  Harry brings home steak, and Roxy mercifully and elegantly steers the conversation away from everything baby-related.  Eggsy walks her to the door to help her into her coat, kisses her on the cheek. 

He returns to the kitchen to help clean up, settling in next to Harry to dry as the other washes.  They walk upstairs and Eggsy settles at their foot of the bed as Harry heads into the closet.  He returns sans suit, dressed in only pants and an undershirt, carrying the bag from the boutique and raises an eyebrow

Eggsy shrugs, and after a moment, holds out his hand for the bag.  Pulls the painstakingly wrapped package out, tears the tissue and reaches for the yellow fabric inside.  Pulls it out, resists the urge to hug it to him and instead hands it over to Harry. 

“It’s lovely,” Harry murmurs, and Eggsy watches the fabric slip over hands that have killed countless people.

“Rox strong-armed me,” he explains as Harry folds the blanket.  “Said I needed to get excited.”

“Did shopping make you excited?”

Eggsy snorts.  “Made me more excited than therapy did.”

Harry pounces.  “How was therapy?” he asks, sitting next to Eggsy and handing over the blanket.  Eggsy immediately unfolds it and hugs it to him, leaning against Harry’s shoulder.  Harry sighs, exasperatedly fond.

“It was…annoying,” Eggsy mutters.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry hums, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing gently.  “Shall we discuss instead, my dreary day without you present to distract me in meetings?

Eggsy snorts, shakes his head and plunks the blanket into Harry’s lap as he stands.  He knows he’ll find it folded when he returns.  “Just lemme get undressed,” he says, heading to the walk-in closet.  “Then I’ll distract you.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Eggsy does distract Harry, and keeps distracting him through the next few weeks.  Just not in a certain way.

Harry mentions it to the doctor at their next ultrasound, and Eggsy mentions it to Doctor O’Reilly. 

“The doctor told you it was perfectly safe to be penetrated,” Katherine says after a moment.

“It’s weird,” he explains shortly, shrugging. 

“Weird how?”

“What if the baby…ya know.  Knows?”

Katherine smiles.  “Medically inaccurate, Galahad.  Arthur’s penis is incapable of reaching your womb through the cervix.” 

Eggsy gags a little.  “Can we just, say ‘Eggsy’ and ‘Harry’ when we’re talking about us shagging?”  Part of him will always associate the title of Arthur with Chester King, and he really doesn’t need to be thinking about King’s prick. 

“Of course.”

Eggsy stays silent for a moment, looking down at his lap.  “I’m scared of hurting the baby.”

Katherine smiles again, kindly.  She always does when he admits something.  “Also medically inaccurate, Eggsy.”

Eggsy sighs.  “What, none of your usual stuff about how this all goes back to Dean?”

“Glad I didn’t have to bring it up this time,” Katherine says.

 Eggsy narrows his eyes. 

“Eggsy, the reality is that we keep coming back to this.  You’re terrified of losing the pregnancy.  You’re afraid of having sex with Harry because you’re afraid of Harry hurting you in the way your step-father did.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

That night, Eggsy comes to Harry’s office naked.  Climbs up onto his chair and straddles him, takes off his glasses. 

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells him quietly before kissing him.  Harry’s hands settle on his hips as Eggsy’s hands pick at the other’s fly. 

“You’re certain?” Harry asks, hands slipping down to cup his arse. 

Eggsy nods.

Harry’s still slow, refuses to allow Eggsy to rush this.  He guides him down, instead, forces him to settle and adjust to the stretch he hasn’t felt in weeks.  Picks him up, lays him down across the desk, fucks into him until Eggsy’s trembling, Harry panting against his shoulder.

Harry helps Eggsy off the desk, guides him to their bedroom with a hand on the small of his back.

“I’ve missed this,” Eggsy murmurs tiredly once they’re in bed, running his hand over Harry’s chest.

“As did I, darling,” Harry murmurs softly.  Eggsy closes his eyes as lips are pressed to his head.  “Sleep, love.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He wakes up to the feeling that something’s wrong.  He feels _wet_.

He presses his fingers to his arse and they come back sticky with blood.  “No,” he whispers, his heart splintering in his chest as he frantically pushes the sheets away.  “ _No_."

This wasn’t happening. 

This couldn’t be happening.

_"No."_


	4. Life In Her Yet (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. SERIOUSLY. SO MANY.

He scrambles off the bed, and there’s a red spot where he was laying.  A glance at his phone reveals it’s nearly noon.  He overslept. 

He overslept and killed his baby.

He pulls on the first things he sees, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.  His shaking fingers leave blood where he touches the fabric.

He steps out of the house and vomits onto the pavement before setting down the street. 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_“Mum?” Eggsy asks, prodding at her.  She doesn’t respond._

_The sound of clanking from behind him makes him jump.  Dean’s sitting up, beer bottles disturbed at his feet.  He freezes; he had only come out here because he thought Dean had fallen asleep._

_It’s not that he doesn’t like Dean.  His mum loves Dean, so Eggsy does too._

_He just doesn’t want to be around him._

_Dean blinks at him, his gaze drifting over to his mum.  He nods at her.  “She’s pissed, yeah?”_

_Eggsy shifts his weight away from his mum.  “Yeah.”_

_Dean gets to his feet, swaying slightly before making his way over to them.  Shoves at Michelle’s leg roughly.  She doesn’t stir._

_“Wouldn’t want to wake her,” he mutters, grabbing two beers from the coffee table.  He walks into Eggsy’s bedroom.  Eggsy follows slowly, hovering in the door._

_“Get in here and shut it,” Dean grunts, shoving a beer at him and waving his hand at the door.  Eggsy takes it, and after a moment, shuts the door.  He looks at the uncapped beer, and then back to Dean._

_“Ever had a beer before?”_

_Eggsy shakes his head._

_“Go on then.”_

_Eggsy takes a sip.  It tastes foul.  He smiles like he likes it._

_Dean grins back at him.  “Atta boy.  First beer makes you a man.  Well that and your first fucking.  Ever fucked a girl, Eggsy?”_

_Eggsy shakes his head, flushing, and takes another disgusting swig of beer to hide it._

_Dean seems to lose interest, drinking his own beer as he walks around the room.  Eggsy doesn’t like him touching his things, but he keeps his mouth shut.  His mum had told him not to be rude.  He sits down on his bed and keeps drinking.  He thought beer was supposed to be good.  Maybe something’s wrong with him._

_He feels fuzzy when he finishes.  He guesses he’s drunk, but it’s not like what his classmates at school talk about.  Mostly he just feels sleepy.  He lies back on his bed.  It creaks, and he opens his eyes to find Dean has joined him._

_He opens his mouth to say something – he’s not quite sure what – but he can’t.  His mouth won’t form the words.  It comes out a slur._

_“Shh,” Dean’s leaning over him, blocking out the light from his ceiling fan.  Eggsy blinks slowly, disorientated.  “Don’t want to wake up your mum.”_

_It hurts.  It hurts.  It hurts._

_He’s crying and he doesn’t know why, Dean’s hand clamped firmly in his hair, keeping his face pushed down into his pillow.  It’s wet from spit and snot and tears, and Eggsy feels like vomiting._

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

He’s getting weird looks.  He knows why.  He’s wearing death like a cloak.  People know.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_Eggsy steps into the flat, freezes as his eyes meet strangers’._

_“Eggsy,” Dean grins from the couch.  Eggsy hates Dean’s smile, wants all his teeth to fall out so he can never smile again.  “Perfect timing.  Come here.”_

_Eggsy wants to run, but he can’t.  Dean makes him feel like he has bricks tied to his feet.  If he tries to run, he’ll pay for it later.  Dean likes to whisper threats to him, about what he’ll do to Eggsy’s mum if he tells anybody, if he tries to resist._

_He sets his knapsack down carefully, walks just as slowly into the flat.  Keeps his eyes on the ground, focusing on pieces of crisps and stains instead of making eye contact.  He can still feel the weight of their gaze_

_“Come here, Eggsy.”  Dean’s voice is dangerous.  “Come sit on your Dad’s lap.”_

_Eggsy steps around the coffee table.  He hesitates and Dean pulls him down so he’s sitting across his thighs.  Eggsy looks up for a second, meets the beady eyes of one of the strangers.  He looks down at his lap quickly._

_He tries not to listen, doesn’t want to hear what they might be saying.  Closes his eyes and hopes, harder than he’s hoped for anything, that his mum will come home.  If she does he’ll do all his homework and never complain about eating broccoli again._

_Dean’s arm wraps around his back, rubbing his fingers into his hip.  He plucks at the hem of his shirt, pulls it up to trace at bare skin.  Deans says something, the men laugh, and Eggsy shuts his eyes very tight and hopes and holds the tears in._

_Eggsy’s mum doesn’t come home.  He kneels on the carpet, opens his mouth, can’t keep the tears in.  The men laugh._

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Dagonet isn’t at the counter when Eggsy gets to the shop.  He's glad.  He doesn’t know what he’d say.  As the fitting room lowers to the train platform, he thinks about Harry.  Thinks about calling him.  Thinks about telling him that he killed their baby. 

His phone stays where it is, in his pocket.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_He stole Dean’s pot.  He wanted to forget.  Went out and got high with Ryan and Jamal._

_The buzz wears off too quickly.  He comes home sober, to a very angry Dean._

_He doesn’t think about it.  Dean’s fist comes up and Eggsy surges forward.  Wraps his arms around his shoulders and presses his lips to Dean’s.  He always tastes like Eggsy’s first sip of beer._

_“Fucking slag,” Dean mutters, fist uncurling to push Eggsy against the counter._

_Eggsy throws up afterwards, disgusted with himself.  It hadn’t mattered.  Dean had left bruises on him anyways._

_He’s going to need something stronger than weed._

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He doesn’t collapse until he reaches medical.  Sags against the door, whispers to the nurses trying to pull him up what’s wrong.  He wants to scream it.  Scream that somebody has died.  Wants to beg them to perform CPR.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_He doesn’t like coke.  Tries it, hates it.  He feels hyperaware of his body.  He hates his body.  It belongs to Dean._

_He falls in love with heroin.  He loves his baby more.  Stops saving up to get another hit, starts saving up for nappies, for baby clothes._

_He forgot.  His body belongs to Dean._

_He can’t sleep, he can’t eat.  Can’t stop staring at his mum’s stomach._

_He cries only after Dean leaves him, muffling his tears in the pillow like all those years ago.  Thinks of the condoms in the wastebasket.  Thinks about telling Dean not to wear one the next time.  His stomach growing round again.  He cries harder._

_Thinks about killing Dean._

_Thinks about killing himself._

_He has money.  He returns to his dealer, buys more than he ever has before._

_He just wants it to stop.  He wants to join them.  It has to be better than this._

_He goes over to Jamal’s to do it.  He didn’t want his mum to find his body.  Didn’t have the courage to do it in a park._

_He hides how much he has from Jamal.  Tells him he needs to get high, and Jamal lies on his bed with a joint between his fingers while Eggsy sits on the carpet with a needle._

_Injects death into his body.  It was already there._

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

They get him on an examination table, cut open his clothes.  The doctor hooks him to an ultrasound in record time. 

Silence greets them.  Eggsy closes his eyes.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

_He open his eyes to pain.  Pressure on his ribs, something on his face.  He tries to knock it off, but his arms don’t work._

_“Glad to have you back,” the paramedic says, Jamal’s terrified face hovering over her shoulder._

_When they get him up he lunges at Jamal.  Screams at him, wordless, tears sliding down his cheeks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leximander: WHY WOULD YOU MAKE HIM LOSE THE BABY  
> Me: Cause I'm the devil. Surprise.  
> Leximander: Douche canoe.  
> Me: I AM A DOUCHE CANOE  
> Leximander: YEP AND IM GOING DOWN ANGST RIVER
> 
> Chapter title is taken from the song 'Life in Her Yet' - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orkEnnQN5wM  
> Without me discovering it this week this chapter wouldn't have two parts, it made me want to write more of Eggsy's past. So yeah...if you give that a listen and pay very close attention to the end...


	5. Life In Her Yet (2)

This couldn’t be happening.  The most beautiful sound in the world fills the room, and it isn’t.

His chest expands without the crushing pressure, and Eggsy gasps for breath through tears, through hysterical laughter.  A heartbeat.  There’s a heartbeat.  There’s commotion and the doctor’s barking orders, but it all dulls in the wake of that thrumming.

He’s still laughing through tears when Harry and Merlin burst into the room.  Harry looks at Eggsy like he’s gone mad before turning to the doctor.  Merlin averts his eyes politely from Eggsy’s state of undress to talk quietly to a nurse.

Eggsy only stops laughing when the doctor turns of the machine, the room achingly silent without the beating.  He aches to hear it again, never wants to turn it off.

“It looks as if your cervix was bleeding, but it’s stopped now.  Have you engaged in sexual intercourse recently?”

Harry answers for him, as Eggsy stares despondently at the blank monitor. 

“That could have irritated it.  You’ll need to stay here, so that we can monitor you to be certain, but - Agent Galahad?”

Eggsy tears his eyes away from the monitor to look at the doctor.

“Everything looks fine.  Okay?  If that was it, there shouldn’t be any more problems.  As long as you two take it easy in bed.”

“So the baby’s okay?”

The doctor nods, taking a gown from a nurse to hand to Eggsy.  He sits up to pull it on, covering himself. 

“Really?”

“Really,” she repeats, giving him a small smile. 

Eggsy nods, leans back with a soft sigh of relief.  The doctor leaves after a quiet word with Merlin, the nurses bustling around the room.  He looks up at Harry, frowns.  “What are you doing here?”

It’s the wrong thing to say, apparently.  Harry explodes.  “What am I _doing_ here!?” he repeats, at a much louder volume than Eggsy.  The nurses flinch.  “Merlin got a bloody notification from Medical saying you had been admitted under emergency protocol, that’s what I’m doing here!  What the hell happened!?”

Eggsy shrinks in on himself.  “I was bleeding.  I thought…I thought…”  He struggles to finish the sentence, and then doesn’t bother.  Harry already knows what he had thought had happened. “I came here to get checked out.”

“You didn’t think to call me and let me know?  Not once!?”

Eggsy opens his mouth to defend himself.  “And tell you what, exactly?  That our baby was dead?  That I killed another one, sorry bruv, you got a fucking graveyard pregnant, what did you expect?”

He regrets it, wishes he could snatch back the words from the air and stuff them back down his throat.  Not only because of the look on Harry’s face, but the quiet ‘Harry’ that comes from Merlin.  A reminder, a warning.  Of what, Eggsy isn’t sure.

“To tell me the truth,” Harry grinds out, jaw clenched.  Merlin repeats himself, louder, and Harry turns to look at him for a moment before brushing past him and out the door. 

Eggsy sits up, swinging his legs out onto the floor, only to have them picked up and placed back on the bed.  Merlin ignores the indignant sound he makes to stare down at him disapprovingly. 

“You heard the doctor.  No leaving this bed until she says so.”

Eggsy huffs, yanking his ankle out of Merlin’s hand.  He fumes silently, but makes no further moves to get up.  Merlin seems satisfied with that, and brings a chair to the side of the bed to sit.

“He just needs some time to calm down, lad.”

“That wasn’t fair of him,” Eggsy complains.

“Aye.  Neither was it fair of you.”

Guilt settles in his stomach.  He wants to try to get up again, but Merlin’s always been capable of leveling him with a simple look, and he’s using it to full advantage.

“You need time to calm down, too.  Let it be for a moment, Eggsy.  It’ll be okay.”

“That’s Roxy’s line,” Eggsy complains but obligingly holds out his arms for one of the nurses to insert an IV.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

When Eggsy finally gets permission to leave his room the following day, under strict instructions to not exert himself, he goes to find Harry.

He’s on the grounds, watching a new batch of recruits for the extraction team run laps around the track.  He doesn’t speak when Eggsy comes to stand next to him, only offers his arm.  Eggsy takes it, leans against him.  Waits until the recruits have finished and are dragging their feet back to the manor to speak. 

“Can we take a walk?”

“Of course,” Harry murmurs, leads them down towards the woods that border the track.  “How are you feeling?”

“Alright, actually,” Eggsy winces, reminded of the previous day’s events.  “I, uh, may have thrown up in the flowerpots yesterday.”

Harry nods.  “Roxanne volunteered to fetch JB yesterday.  She cleaned.”  He pauses.  “She mentioned that there wasn’t a lot of blood, on the bed.”

“Yeah, I already know I overreacted, thanks,” Eggsy mutters, kicking at the dirt beneath their feet, the ground having changing from manicured to grass to the dappled underbrush of the forest, the leafy canopy hiding them from the sun. 

Harry removes his arm from under Eggsy’s hand, stops where he’s standing.  Eggsy keeps moving, carefully steps around roots and branches to press his fingers against a large oak. 

“On the contrary, I think you reacted appropriately.  Blood is frightening in this situation, no matter how the quantity.”

Eggsy shrugs.

“You were scared, Eggsy.  In fact, I imagine you were terrified, and you didn’t call me.  You didn’t even _text_ me.”

“That’s not fair,” Eggsy says quietly, glancing back at Harry.  “It wasn’t like that.”

“Except it was.” Harry meets his gaze steadily, his one eye unblinking.  “You didn’t seek comfort from me.  You didn’t confide in me.  It’s becoming a pattern.”

“Don’t you fucking put that on me!” Eggsy turns to face him, points a shaking finger at him. 

“I’m not.  I’m only observing.”

Eggsy closes his eyes.  “You have no idea,” he whispers, shaking his head minutely.  “None of you do.”

Harry steps closer; Eggsy can hear twigs breaking under his feet, the soft crunch of debris.  “I don’t.  I have only what you’ve given me, bits and pieces.  And only when you are forced into a corner, only when you have no other option.”

“What the hell was I supposed to say?” Eggsy whispers, voice trembling.  “Bring up that I was raped by Dean over breakfast?”

Harry’s steps grow louder until they stop, his hand cupping Eggsy’s chin gently, making him look up.  He opens his eyes reluctantly. 

“You can tell me anything, Eggsy,” Harry says, voice heavy with promise. 

Eggsy shakes his head.  The pressure’s back on his chest and his eyes are wet.  “I can’t,” he whispers.

“Yes, you can.  I promise you, you can tell me anything.  You can tell me everything.” His other hand brushes tears away.

He closes his eyes again.  Has to shield himself in some way from the truth he’s been carrying around, an unacknowledged weight.  “I meant to get pregnant.”

Harry’s hands don’t waver.  Eggsy opens his eyes.  “You knew.”

“I suspected,” Harry murmurs softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Eggsy’s forehead.  Eggsy can’t even flinch away.  It feels like he’s launched himself over a precipice only to drop an inch and land on his feet. 

“You aren’t mad?” he asks, frowning up at Harry. 

Harry pauses before he speaks.  “I think you’ve beaten yourself up about it enough, darling.”  He smiles softly, cupping Eggsy’s jaw, and Eggsy’s lips twitch up reflexively.  “It’s done.  I’m not mad.”

Eggsy wraps his arms around Harry’s back, rests his forehead against his neck.  He’s still crying, but it’s not suffocating.  He can breathe.  “I just…I forgot my pills, that mission in Berlin?  And I…I wanted.”

Harry’s hands rub softly at his back through his shirt.  “I can hardly blame you, love, after what was taken from you.”

Eggsy shakes his head against Harry’s shoulder, face burning with shame.  “I should have fought for them.”

Harry pushes him back, makes him look him in the eye.  Eggsy can’t bring himself to close his own.  “No.  Eggsy.  You did what you needed to, darling, and we have no way of knowing what that man might have done had you refused.  He could have killed you.”

“But that’s what a parent is supposed to do,” Eggsy whispers into the space between them, and the lines of who he’s speaking of blur.  “I was supposed to protect them, no matter what.  Even if it meant dying.”

“Eggsy,” Harry murmurs softly, and a fresh wave of tears spill over at the tenderness in his voice.  “Oh, love.  You were a child.  You didn’t choose what happened to you.”

“Then aren’t I doing to you what Dean did to me?”  Eggsy asks, bile rising in his throat.  “I didn’t give you a choice.”

“But I do choose this,” Harry said firmly, hand moving to curl over Eggsy’s bump.  “I choose you, I choose our child.  I choose our family, and that will always be my choice.  You are not alone in this, Eggsy, not this time.  Darling, _please_ , understand that.  I’m here for you, with you, your partner, for every moment.  You can depend on me.”

Eggsy’s hand falls over Harry’s, between them.  Looks at his partner.  “So next time, I call you.”

Harry smiles.  “Next time, you call me.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Eggsy sits on the familiar couch the next day, speaks before Katherine can for the first time.  “Sometimes I hate my mum.  And then I hate myself for hating her.”

He feels sick saying the words, but he’s tired of lying to himself.  Tells Katherine that too.

Katherine gives him a long appraising look before nodding slowly.  “I can work with that.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

He gets released from Medical three days later, with new pictures of his baby, assured that everything looks perfectly healthy.  Harry’s busy with work, but Roxy, recently returned from a mission in Denmark with a nasty looking black eye, is free to accompany him home, and she coos over the pictures in the cab. 

He gets an enthusiastic greeting from JB when they step in the door, and Eggsy sits on the couch and gives him a belly rub while Rox makes them lunch. 

She leaves after they eat, giving him a tight hug which Eggsy returns.  Makes him promise that they’ll go shopping for nursery furniture soon, and Eggsy finds himself eager as he agrees.

He’s in the bath when Harry gets home, hears JB go nuts downstairs when the door opens.  Grins to himself as he hears him coming up the stairs.  Grins wider as the footsteps pause outside the bathroom door before a knock comes. 

“Come in,” he says, sitting up some in the clawfoot tub.

Harry closes the door behind him, smiles over at Eggsy.  “You look so beautiful like that.”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at him, smirks.  “Wet?”

Harry rolls his eyes.  “Yes, wet.  I was quite taken with you when you punched through that mirror.”  He walks closer, gets to his knees and leans against the edge of the bath.  “No, not wet.  Happy.  Relaxed.”

Eggsy shrugs, doesn’t stop smiling at Harry.  “Figured I deserved a soak, after showering in Medical.”  No matter how fancy Kingsman’s hospital facility was, at the end of the day, it was still a hospital. 

“You do,” Harry murmurs back, smiling as well as he dips his hand into the water to catch Eggsy’s hand, bringing it up out of the bath water to wrap his hands around it.  “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Arthur stuff?” Eggsy asks with a light yawn.

“No.”  Harry brings one hand down, comes back up with a discreet black box.  “A trip to the jewellers.”

Eggsy freezes.  Harry grins.  “Relax, darling.  I didn’t get you a diamond.”  He cracks open the box, tilts it to show Eggsy.  “My signet ring, from Oxford.  I had it re-sized; I wanted to have something to give you today other than wedding bands.”

“Harry,” Eggsy breathes.

“Eggsy,” Harry responds teasingly, before sobering somewhat.  “It occurred to me, when we had our talk, that I’ve had a terrible lapse in judgement these last few weeks.  I should have done this a long time ago, but better late than never.”  Eggsy watches him pluck the ring from the case, wrapping one hand around Eggsy’s, pulling his fingers apart, the other hand hovering in front of his ring finger.  “Gary Unwin.  Eggsy, my darling, my love.  Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

It isn’t even a question.  Eggsy’s nodding before Harry can finish asking.  Harry slides the gold ring on easily, a perfect fit.  Eggsy gets bath water all over his suit and the floor as he surges up to kiss him, but neither of them particularly care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you guys thought I made Eggsy lose the baby. 
> 
> Regarding the signet ring - I have no idea if it's even feasible to use it as a engagement ring, but idk. I liked it. And I looked it up and the French wear them on their left ring finger, so if anybody says it's incorrect, maybe Eggsy's just feeling French.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Been a long time since I've written something. Bit rusty.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: happy-haptic-lacuna.tumblr.com
> 
> Unbeta-ed, not brit-picked.
> 
> Constructive criticism, as always, is appreciated.


End file.
